


Footloose Not Fancy Free

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [21]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trip to Cincinnati, datus interruptus, and Finn gets cold on a disc golf course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

As soon as she found the listing over the summer, Rachel had marked her calendar with an extra-large gold star and hurried to tell her dads. A college fair devoted exclusively to the visual and performing arts? And it was coming as close to Lima as Cincinnati? Rachel Berry was _going_ to be there!

Both her dads take the afternoon off work, and as soon as she gives Finn a kiss before he headed to football practice, Rachel hurries outside and jumps into the car with them. She eats a snack and chatters excitedly about the fun they're having in glee club, looking at all the performances, then moves on to discussing the various colleges that will be at the fair.

She realizes, halfway to Cincinnati, that she didn't even ask if any of her friends were going as well. Carpooling! She frowns for a few minutes then goes back to looking over her list of questions for each school that she's interested in talking with. She doesn't want to forget anything, but she doesn't want to read from a list while conversing with the representatives! When she's reviewed yet again, she turns her attention to her homework at last.

They arrive by five forty-five and eat dinner at an Indian restaurant near campus. Rachel is still one of the first students to arrive, and she marches in determinedly. She's already visited two schools when she spots a familiar mohawk. "Noah! I didn't know you were coming! Isn't it exciting?"

Noah seems almost tired, Rachel can't help but think, but they have a lovely, if short, conversation, and then she's off again, headed for the next school. Later, she sees Kurt, who seems unsurprised by her or her enthusiasm.

"Rachel," he nods at her.

"Kurt," she responds, beaming. "Are you having an informative and productive evening?"

"I am."

"I saw Noah here, is anyone else here?"

"I've seen Mike," Kurt responds. "And that girl from the set crew that's always drawing. I don't remember her name."

"Oh, right," Rachel frowns, because she has no idea who the second person is. "Well, I've got to try to find my dads! See you tomorrow!"

Rachel does wave at Mike as she looks for her dads, whom she finally finds drinking the watered-down lemonade that was set out alongside stale cookies. "Dad! Daddy! I just have one more school and then I think we should head home." It's not until she literally runs into Noah a few minutes later and starts to talk with him again that it hits her–he probably rode with Kurt. They're together _so_ often, but no one else seems to think it's strange.

She supposes she shouldn't either. There's no reason to think that Noah is anything other than straight, after all, and it's unfair of her to assume that a gay man cannot have straight male friends. She knows how close Finn and Puck are again, finally, and of course it makes sense that Kurt would grow to be friends with Puck as well. It says such good things about all three of them, her boyfriend, her best friend, and her somewhat annoying quasi-relative.

Her dad pause in the lobby to buy all three of them each a large cup of coffee, and when they reach the parking garage elevator, she catches one woman looking at her dads and then snorting with apparent laughter. The woman says, under her breath, something like "They're everywhere tonight!" but Rachel's not sure exactly what that's supposed to mean. The three of them enter the elevator alone and ride up to their car, where Rachel sinks into the backseat, suddenly thoroughly exhausted.

"Go ahead and go to sleep, Rachel," Hiram says with a smile. "We'll drive straight through."

Rachel complies and lets her eyes close, dreams of New York and Juilliard filling her thoughts.

 

Once upon a time, Artie looked to Puck as the role-model in all things girl related. While not always the most ethical of advisers, Puck’s advice always _worked_. Moreover, it seemed so cool and so suave. Puck had girls dangling off of him like peaches off a tree. He could take a bite any time he wanted.

This year, though, something is _off_ with Puck. There’s no girls. At least, no obvious girls, but since Puck isn’t precisely subtle--he’s many things, but subtle isn’t one of them--if there were girls, they’d be right there, in Puck’s face. And in Artie’s face. Not that Artie needs another girl in his face; this thing with Mindy is getting _hot_!

But Puck...what happened to Puck? It’s like the breakup with Lauren completely stole his mojo. One minute, Puck’s got women at the snap of his fingers, next minute, he’s some big lonely bachelor who doesn’t even seem to be _trying_ any more. Maybe what ben Israel said is true and Lauren did neuter Puck -- not literally, of course, but perhaps she inflicted some degree of emotional damage, wounded his self-esteem, and now he’s just not capable of going out and scoring.

Truth be told, Artie finds himself pitying Puck, and that doesn’t sit right with Artie. It’s a change in the status quo that goes beyond his comfort level. He hopes Puck comes out of his slump soon and puts the world to right, because Puck without his mojo? That’s just sad.


	2. 3x05

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist for this episode](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL4CED6D84DAD4D8C5) \-- jamming in the choir room

Kurt’s sitting at his desk, scribbling a few sentences on each of a stack of postcards before moving it to a second stack. Finn comes stumbling noisily down the hallway, looking rumpled and barely awake. He glaces into Kurt’s room and nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Geez, Kurt!” Finn yelps. “Didn’t expect you home!”

Kurt jumps, too, and swivels in his chair. “Good morning to you, too.” He shakes himself a little. “Dad said there wasn’t anything interesting to work on, so I’m doing the oil change reminder postcards.” He has a sickly grin on his face, but the effect is more towards wanting to stab someone.

“Uh, that’s...awesome?” Finn offers. “Or, I guess not. Is this the part where I’m supposed to offer to help?”

“No, because I don’t want to share my paycheck.” The smile shifts to sugary-sweet now. “But you can come distract me. Please.”

“Can I get coffee first? And breakfast? I could bring you some.”

“That would be _lovely_.”

“Hot Pockets sound ok?” Finn asks. “‘Cause I don’t feel like waiting for something that takes longer than three minutes.”

Kurt shrugs. “Sure. As long as it’s not the ham one.”

“Bacon all the way, dude,” Finn promises. “Well, unless there’s no bacon. Or only a few bacon. Well, we could go halves if there’s only one or two bacon ones.”

“Yes. And I think Carole knows by now to get plenty of bacon ones.”

Finn nods and heads downstairs. He’s back up in about seven minutes, precariously balancing two cups of coffee and a plate with six Hot Pockets on it. “Sorry it took so long. They won’t all get hot if I put them in together. Three are bacon and three are sausage. Oh, only I forgot which is which, so I think we’ll have to poke them a little bit to see what meat comes out.”

Kurt just raises an eyebrow and takes one off the plate, taking a bite. “Bacon,” he announces.

“Ah, a risk-taker, I see,” Finn says, in what appears to be a bad Kung-Fu master voice. “You chose wisely.” Finn takes one of the ones on top and bites into it, then swears loudly and holds his mouth open, panting around the uneaten bite. “Hot!”

Kurt smothers a laugh. “I think the cooler ones are the bacon ones, Finn.”

“I figured,” Finn mumbles around his bite of food. “‘Cause of how this one is sausage and it’s melting my teeth.”

“That’s a disturbing visual,” Kurt muses, drinking some of his coffee.

“It’s a disturbing _feeling_ , dude,” Finn says, having swallowed his molten bite of sausage Hot Pocket. “So, you sure I can’t help with those? I can do my words really neat and teeny and they’ll never know it was me.”

“Mastered ‘joined-up writing,’ now?” Kurt grins.

Finn glares. “Hey, you! I’m trying to be nice.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I know. You don’t look a thing like Lockhart, thankfully.”

Finn scrunches up his face for a minute, then says, “Oh, the Harry Potter guy. The short one.”

“Still taller than the goblins, but yes.” Kurt shakes his head and smiles. “And no, I really should do them all. Sadly.” He glares at the stack of cards sitting silently on his desk. “I don’t think I mentioned it yesterday, but you and Rachel absolutely knocked it out of the park.”

“Thanks, man,” Finn smiles. “That really means a lot. I mean, it didn’t seem that impressive compared to your crazy ballet thing, but thanks.”

“Ha!” Kurt grins. “My only regret is not having a camera on Schue’s face.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “I know, right? Ooh, speaking of camera, have you seen the video yet? Wasn’t somebody going to film it?”

Kurt nods. “Artie linked to it this morning.” He gestures to the computer. “I haven’t watched any of it yet, though.”

“Well, you wanted to be distracted, right?”

“Good point.” Kurt shrugs and wakes up his computer. “What do you want to watch first? They’re broken into segments by song.”

“Let’s skip right to us,” Finn says, bouncing in place a little. “We can watch the other ones later and, like, _analyze_ them or something.”

“We should do that during fourth period this week, instead of dancing,” Kurt offers, clicking on the link to “Pretending.”

“Good idea, man! Oh yuck,” Finn makes a noise that’s almost, but not quite, a squeal. “Those pants make my butt look huge!”

Kurt looks at Finn incredulously for a moment, then shakes his head. “Well, you don’t have to worry about wearing anything like that for the actual competitions.”

Finn breathes a sigh of relief. “Rachel looks pretty,” he says, his voice going soft. “She sure can sing. Oh, wow, am I really that much bigger than she is?”

Kurt tilts his head curiously at Finn and nods. “Yesss. You are.”

“I can’t tell,” Finn says, shaking his head. “Everybody looks tiny. Aw, look at her face just then!” He smiles dreamily at the computer screen.

“Puck and I were saying that maybe you should be paired up with her more often, despite the height difference; you’re just so much more comfortable dancing with her than anyone else.”

“It’s Rachel,” Finn say, as though that were explanation enough, and, Kurt thinks, maybe that is.

Kurt just smiles as the song comes to an end. “‘November Rain,’ now?”

Finn groans. “Do we have to? I swear, if Mr. Schue had said ‘let’s run through November Rain’ one more time, I was going to start drinking or something.”

“We could wait and make everyone suffer through it during the week?” Kurt suggests.

“Could I excuse myself to go pee right before you start the video?”

“I’ll be sure to give you a signal ahead of time.”

“That’s really awesome of you, Kurt,” Finn grins. “You’re the best brother I ever had.”

“Gee, and with such a strong field of contenders, too,” Kurt says dryly, but he smiles. “So, ‘Human,’ then?”

“Definitely! I want to see how my heel click thing looks.”

“All right.” Kurt grins and starts the video, watching the opening sequence. “Hey, you and Brittany did really well.”

“You and Santana did a good job, too,” Finn says. “I’m surprised she didn’t kick you in the balls when you say you were gonna lead.”

“We promised to both use hand sanitizer immediately beforehand. To eliminate the transference of those nasty opposite-sex germs.”

“That was, uh, neighborly of you. Ooh, here’s the switch off! Nailed it!”

“Damn, that was good. All twelve of us.”

“Heh, look at me in my chair! I’m so awesome,” Finn chortles.

“Ahh, and the click of the heels.”

“Damn, Britt and Mike have some seriously long legs,” Finn says, tilting his head sideways. “It’s like watching a spider getting it on with an octopus.”

Kurt just blinks and turns back to the screen. “Everyone did so well!”

“There’s your lift, dude!” Finn points at the screen and bounces up and down on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “Sweet!”

Kurt grins. “I wish I’d been more aware of the audience,” he admits, hearing the gasps recorded on the video. “It’s rather gratifying.”

“Yeah, it’s gotta feel pretty good, too,” Finn adds.

“Yeah...” Kurt nods slowly. “At the time, though, I was just so focused on nailing it.”

“I think you managed.”

“We did,” Kurt grins.

“Can we go back and watch ‘Pretending’ again?”

“In a minute.” Kurt turns in his chair. “O Captain, my Captain,” he starts with a grin.

“Wait, I know that one!” Finn exclaims. “We read it in English. Well, Mrs. Barker read it out loud to us.”

“Luckily, however, you aren’t dead.” Kurt furrows his brow. “Anyway. We did so much better at this than almost any other performance or competition. We’re going to have to keep it up, Finn... but it’s not Schue’s style.”

“Yeah, I mean, Mr. Schue is nice,” Finn begins. “Like, he seems to care about us and everything, but he’s...well, he’s not exactly...”

“Proactive?” Kurt suggests.

“Uh, I was gonna say ‘a very good glee coach,’” Finn finishes, running his hand through his hair like he’s a little embarrassed to admit that out loud.

Kurt giggles for a moment. “I was just searching for a ‘nicer’ way to say it.”

“You know me,” Finn snorts. “No whatchacallit.”

“Filter?” Kurt grins. “I know, brother dear.”

“Yeah. That. Don’t have one.”

“Back to my point.” Kurt fixes his gaze on Finn. “If Schue’s not going to do it right, _we_ are. Which means _you_ have to lead us.”

“Um, I am?”

“Are you or are you not the leader?”

“I am,” Finn says firmly. “I am, right?”

“You are.” Kurt smiles encouragingly. “So. We’re going to win Nationals. And we’re going to figure it out ourselves. Because we owe it to ourselves. Right?”

“Right we do!” Finn agrees. “I’ll get Rachel on board. She’ll love this. It’s the best idea ever, so how can she not?”

“Exactly.” Kurt nods sharply. “First thing, though, you were right–we analyze the other performances this week.”

“That’s right. And we...we look for their weaknesses and those are the areas we work on the hardest, right?”

“I think so. Once we get our Sectionals assignment, we can look for video of those groups specifically, too.”

“This is awesome. Like secret agents!” Finn exclaims. “And we will probably need to schedule at least one additional practice time per week. Preferably one we don’t tell Schue about.”

Kurt nods, albeit a little reluctantly. “Well, I’m sure Dad and Carole will let us rehearse here some times. Plus fourth period on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“We’ll watch the videos this week and start taking notes,” Finn says, excitedly. “And we’ll start the extra practices next week. We’ll start with one and add another one or two if we need it. We should get working on our number right away.” With that, he crams half of the last Hot Pocket into his mouth. “We’re gonna OWN this thing,” he manages to say around the mouthful, spraying crumbs.

Kurt nods and then shakes his head, amused, at the end. “We really are,” he agrees.

Finn holds up his hand for a high five. Kurt obliges, bracing his arm because Finn inevitably does not quite know his own strength. Finn’s subsequent high five leaves Kurt feeling like he was wise to brace himself.

 

Puck looks up and grins just before two, as Kurt walks into the store and drops his bag in a chair before walking over to the counter. “Hey, K.”

“Hi.” Kurt smiles. “Almost done?”

“Let me just make ours, yeah.” Puck finishes quickly and hands them both to Kurt before changing, removing the coffee-stained shirt with some relief. “I kept spilling stuff on myself today,” he explains with a grimace as he sits down. “I don’t know why.”

“You used up all your coordination for the weekend yesterday?” Kurt suggests, raising an eyebrow and then laughing.

“Maybe so,” Puck agrees with a grin.

“So why are we here instead of at your place, again?”

Puck groans a little and lowers his voice. “When I got home last night, my mom was in my room, putting laundry away or something, except... she was holding... we sort of forgot to put away–”

“Oh!” Kurt interrupts him, flushing a little. “Ohh. Oh, god. Did she freak out?”

“She went and scrubbed her hands for, like, ten minutes,” Puck elaborates. “And then she wanted to have a ‘talk’ and I guess that wasn’t awful because she was so embarrassed, but... Did you know she and Carole talk? Like, apparently regularly?”

“No.” Kurt’s eyes widen. “Oh, god. Oh, dear god. You don’t think...?”

“I don’t know, K.” Puck reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand, squeezing it. “But.” He shrugs. “I guess it’s possible?”

“God.” Kurt shudders a little and then drops his voice lower. “What did she ask you?”

“If we were being ‘careful,’ of course,” Puck snorts. “And then she started talking about some online group for Jewish parents with gay kids, and how some of _them_ have older children still living at home, which I told her sounded really fucking lame.”

“Okay, that’s almost worse,” Kurt concedes. “And Carole came into this...”

“Carole said, Carole found her the group, you get the idea.” Puck shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that she’s all educated or whatever and not freaking out, I guess, but.”

“But she found the lube.”

“Yeah. Pretty much that says it right there.”

“Well. Fuck.” Kurt grins sardonically. “It’s not like they can _do_ anything, though. We’re both eighteen. It’s perfectly legal.”

“They could try to reduce our opportunities to be alone.”

“ _Try_ is the operative word.” Kurt’s eyes are a bit fierce. “It’s hard enough to find time as it is. I won’t _let_ them.”

“Hey, s’okay,” Puck says soothingly. “I know, blue eyes.”

“Sorry.” Kurt exhales. “I just–”

“I know.” Puck squeezes his hand again. “I know. I feel like we’re starting to drown.”

“Well, that’s only going to get worse, then,” Kurt says with a sigh.

“Worse?”

“I talked to Finn this morning. About glee club, and Sectionals, and Schue.”

“And?”

“He was very enthusiastic. Very. We’re going to start having at least one extra practice a week after this week. He’s going to get Rachel on board. We may have created a monster.”

“Really?” Puck’s a little surprised.

“He actually _said_ Schue wasn’t a very good glee coach. Out loud! If Finn’s saying it, you know almost everyone is thinking it.”

Puck chuckles. “Yeah. So we’ll help him make plans, and reign in Rachel.”

“Right. But. That’s even more hours. And I don’t know about your dual enrollment classes, but I have my first test in French this week, and a paper due next week.”

“Yeah, math test on Wednesday, a sort-of paper thing on Friday. I don’t know, I forget what the guy called it. Listening response analysis?”

Kurt just shrugs. “At least you don’t have a game Friday night?”

“Ooh, that’s right.”

“We could drive down to Troy or something after dinner.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Puck grins. He puts down his cup with a sigh. “I guess we should work for a little while. I have more of those stupid English worksheets, on top of everything else.”

“You want to work here for an hour or two?” At Puck’s nod, Kurt continues. “Give me your worksheets, I can finish them quicker.”

“K.” Puck looks at him levelly.

“You can draw the graph for the lab report for both of us. We’re drowning, baby.”

“Yeah.” Puck sighs. “Good point.”

They work steadily for about an hour and a half before deciding to head to Puck’s apartment, and Puck breaths a sigh of relief when he notices that his mom’s car is missing from where it is usually parked. Sure enough, when they get upstairs, he finds a note on the refrigerator that she and Hannah are out running errands and they’ll be back around six for dinner, if they could please pick out one of the meals in the freezer and put it in so that it’ll be ready around 6:15?

Puck has to grin a little at the note. “Apparently we’re predictable.”

“Oh?”  
Puck reads it aloud. “‘If the two of you could make sure that the food will be ready around 6:15 and also get a salad ready.’ I didn’t even mention if you were coming by or not.”

“I _have_ been here almost every Sunday night for weeks.” Kurt crosses the room and wraps his arms around Puck from behind. “I wish she hadn’t said what time she’d be back.” He kisses the side of Puck’s neck, working around to the back and then the other side. “Makes it harder to be good.”

“I think you’re being good,” Puck offers, tilting his head to the side. “Really.”

Kurt giggles against Puck’s skin, the puffs of air causing goosebumps. “You know what I meant, baby.”

“Yeah, but I’m doubting your commitment to it,” Puck smirks as Kurt slides his hands down Puck’s chest.

“It’s important to take study breaks. Right?”

“There’s study breaks, and there’s _study breaks_ ,” Puck grins.

“Which is this?” Kurt’s hands rest on Puck’s waistband for a moment before he flicks the button open and slowly flattens one hand, dipping under Puck’s jeans and underwear alike.

“Ah. The latter,” Puck manages to respond, pushing his hips forward just a bit into the pressure from Kurt’s hand.

“Do you want me to stop?” Kurt’s voice is a whisper, breath fluttering against Puck’s ear.

“No. No, don’t stop,” Puck answers immediately.

“I didn’t think so,” is Kurt’s smug reply, his hands pushing Puck’s jeans down and then his underwear. “Turn around,” he adds, his hands pulling back.

Puck complies, and Kurt trails his hands down Puck’s chest in the wake of lowering himself, and his head nestles into the curve where Puck’s legs join his torso. Kurt’s breath comes out in slow, steady puffs, and Puck closes his eyes, leaning back against the counter.

“Comfy?”

Puck just nods and brings his hand up to run through Kurt’s hair. “Yeah,” he says after a moment, voice low and rough.

“Good.” Kurt’s tongue darts out then, the tip dragging against the base of Puck’s cock. “You’re not gonna last long, are you, baby?” he says with a lilt, then trails his tongue up to the head.

“No,” Puck admits, his hips jerking a little.

He can feel Kurt’s head move, nodding, before his lips close over Puck. Kurt’s tongue wraps around him, and then Kurt’s hand slides up Puck’s thigh, cupping his balls and moving them a little. Puck forces his eyes open for a moment, watches Kurt’s own eyes close as he slides up and down on Puck’s cock.

“Fuck,” Puck breathes, and he tightens his hand in Kurt’s hair, forcing himself to hold his hips still as Kurt’s tongue does crazy things to him.

Kurt’s head bobs a little, as if nodding with Puck’s exclamation, and then Kurt starts humming around Puck, his tongue sliding out from his lips and then retracting, his hands tightening around Puck’s balls just slightly.

“Look at me,” Puck pleads, staring down at Kurt, and Kurt’s eyes slowly open, then focus upward to meet Puck’s gaze. Puck swallows as their eyes lock, Kurt still moving on Puck, and Puck can just make out the edge of a dimple on one side.

Kurt moves faster, then, humming again, and he moves his hand like he’s bouncing a stress ball or something, and Puck keeps his eyes locked on Kurt as he can feel his climax approaching. Then Kurt’s lips curve upward to where Puck can see it, and his cheeks go concave, and Puck goes over the edge, yelling out as Kurt continues sucking, swallowing every drop, eyes still fixed on Puck.

Puck slumps against the counter, boneless, as Kurt stands and throws his arms around Puck, kissing him deeply. After a moment, Puck pulls away slightly and tries to slide his hand between them, but Kurt just shakes his head. Puck raises his eyebrows questioningly, and Kurt goes a little pink.

“Um. Not necessary,” he admits, and if _that’s_ not fucking hot, Puck thinks, then what is? He tilts Kurt’s chin back up and kisses him again, plunging his tongue deep into Kurt’s mouth, chasing the taste of himself mingled with how Kurt always tastes.

He finally breaks their kiss reluctantly, pulling his underwear and jeans back up and wrapping an arm around Kurt’s waist. “You want to go clean up?”

Kurt just nods, and Puck walks with him towards the bathroom, nibbling on Kurt’s ear lightly before releasing him and walking back into the living room. When Kurt reappears, he slumps against Puck’s side. “Work now?”

“Work now,” Puck agrees with a sigh. He brings a hand up and runs it through Kurt’s hair before reaching for his bag with a sigh. “Are we going to make it, blue eyes?”

“We’ll make it, but we’re not going to make it unscathed.” Kurt releases a sigh of his own. “We won’t be the same people we were in August.”

“No, but we’ll do it together.”

 

Rachel falls into step with Puck as they leave English on Monday morning, shooting him the occasional odd glance, and Puck almost tells her to just spit it out already, but then they reach the choir room, and she gives him a final look before heading towards Finn with a smile.

Puck drops down into the seat left between Kurt and Sam on the back row, a little surprised that Mercedes is sitting down in the front between Quinn and Brittany. Who knows. Puck reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper.

“What’s that?”

“How much we made,” Puck says quietly. “Since everything was donated, in theory, this is pure profit.”

“Did you bring it to school?”

“No. I think we should have the money in an account we set up, not one Figgins controls.”

Kurt purses his lips and nods. “Good point.”

Schue walks in then and starts clapping. “Great job with invitationals, guys! I am just so impressed. I watched the videos that were uploaded and wow. I can’t believe how much you guys just outshone the other three teams.”

“It’s amazing what a difference all that practice can make!” Finn says, innocently.

Puck purses his lips a little, and he can see Kurt pressing his own lips together tightly out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes, well, I do think we lost a little of our spontaneity,” Schue blusters for a moment. “But I’m sure it was a huge help with the dance steps.” He smiles. “What kind of things did you hear?”

“I overheard several comments,” Rachel offers, “once everyone was in the lobby afterwards. Vocal Adrenaline, of course, was rather contemptuous–I believe one of their members called our performance a ‘fluke.’ However, the other comments were more gratifying.”

“Such as?”

“Several teams and even a couple of coaches were very impressed with our willingness to push the envelope, so to speak.” She turns in her chair and grins at Puck and Kurt. “You two _really_ impressed a lot of people.”

“Yes, well, I doubt the judges would be as... open-minded, unfortunately,” Schue says, shooting the two of them a look that’s probably meant to be apologetic.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Kurt interjects. “The point is that we showed we _could_ do it. If we did this ‘just’ at Invitationals, then hopefully they’re wondering what we’re saving for competition.”

“Like a year-long funk out,” Finn adds, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head vigorously. “It’s a good start.”

“Yes!” Rachel beams. “Precisely. Also, our use of original songs is something that seems to terrify some of the other teams. I overheard one of the Warblers–Trey, I think–saying something to Blaine...” She trails off. “What was it?”

“I think you said it was something like ‘we don’t have a single song-writer on the Warblers’ or something like that,” Finn says. “You said he looked really panicky.”

“Trey would,” Kurt sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Yes, that was it,” Rachel continues. “And I did hear the St. Brigid’s kids swearing they weren’t letting the nuns do song selection again.”

Puck snorts back a laugh. “Yeah, that ‘mash-up’ was a friggin’ disaster.”

“It was offensive, is what it was,” Mercedes nods. “Mr. Schue, what did you think of the other teams?”

“Oh, well,” Mr. Schue stammers for a second before seemingly collecting his thoughts. “I thought some of the song choices _were_ unusual. Some of them would really resonate with judges, though, like ‘Footloose’ and ‘All That Jazz.’”

“So Kurt and I think we should replace the videos of each performance and start breaking down what works and what doesn’t work,” Finn says, using his best leader voice. “We can do one team each day this week and compile, like, a list or something.” He looks at Rachel, who smiles broadly and nods in agreement.

“That’s a wonderful idea, you two! And once we get our assignment for Sectionals, we can focus on those teams.”

“Exactly!” Finn beams at Rachel. “It’s just like we do with other football teams. You need to know your competition, be able to take apart their defense and understand their offense.”

“Guys, guys,” Mr. Schue breaks in. “Glee club is supposed to be _fun_. I don’t think we need to get all ‘hard-core.’”

“But we want to win,” Santana breaks in. “I want to go back to New York, and I want us to come back with a _big_ trophy. Don’t the rest of you?”

“Mr. Schue, you know we’ve got a few people, more than a few actually, in this club that want to go to college for music or dance, right?” Finn says, looking at Schue like he’s an interesting, but very confusing, bug.

“Of course, but it’s not like what we do in May will make a difference for college decisions.” Schue’s smile is just a little too patronizing, in Puck’s opinion.

“It’s a process,” Rachel argues. “And it would benefit all of us.”

“Well, I’ll take your suggestions into consideration, Finn,” Schue says, a note of finality in his voice. “I think this week, though, we should just relax and enjoy our success. Maybe have a nice jam session on Thursday?” He looks around the room, beaming and nodding, waiting until there are a few reluctant nods before continuing. “Speaking of our success. Puck, how’d we do on money?”

Puck smirks. “Pretty good, Mr. Schue.” He unfolds the scrap of paper in his hand. “Anyone want to take a guess?”

“Twelve hundred dollars?” Rachel suggests.

“I’m hoping for fifteen hundred,” Mercedes says with a little nod.

“Eighteen hundred and, uh, twelve,” Finn offers. “And some change.”

“Well?” Mr. Schue looks up at Puck expectantly. “Are those good guesses?”

“They are all too... low,” Puck grins. “ _Two_ thousand, two hundred twelve–and fifty-two cents.”

“You’re kidding.” Schue looks at Puck disbelievingly. “We made that much money?”

“Yeah, we did,” Puck nods.

“That’s awesome, dude,” Finn says. “We are awesome.”

“So I’ll take that to Figgins and have him deposit it in the school account, then,” Schue beams. “That’s fantastic, we’re well on our way towards having enough money for Nationals!”

“Yeah, about that,” Puck says with a shake of his head. “You know we’re allowed, as a school club, to open our own account at a bank?”

“Well, sure, but there’s no need to do that,” Mr. Schue protests.

“Really? You want our money where Figgins could decide to hand it over to Sylvester and the Cheerios? No offense, girls.”

“None taken,” Quinn speaks for the three of them. “Puck’s right; we shouldn’t leave our money where it could be taken. I’m not sure Puck’s the best choice for maintaining the account, though.” She shoots him an undecipherable look, and Puck scowls.

“Why not?” Sam looks confused, and Puck appreciates that.

“Yeah, Puck’s obviously got the math figured out, and he came up with the plan to make that much money,” Artie argues.

“Puck hasn’t given you any reason to believe he can’t be trusted with the glee money, Quinn,” Finn says, narrowing his eyes at her. “Not last year and not this year. He’s the main reason we even _have_ this much money.”

Quinn just shrugs, then, and shoots Puck another look before seemingly acquiescing. “All right.”

“Well, Puck, if you want to set that up for us–I think I have to have access to the account as well, as faculty advisor, under the school district rules.”

“Sure.” Puck nods. “No problem.”

“Great!” Schue claps his hands together. “The bell’s going to ring soon, so why don’t we go ahead and head out? Remember–we’ll just jam a little on Thursday.” He grins before heading towards the door and heading into the hallway.

Once Schue is gone, Finn stands up, gesturing for the rest of the glee kids to stay. “Ok, so I know what Mr. Schue said, but I think he’s wrong. Glee is fun, but it’s also something we take seriously. I don’t know about you guys, but I want to win Nationals this year.”

“Definitely,” Rachel says, and everyone else nods their agreement.

“So here’s what I think we need to do. This week, we’ll look over the videos of the other teams from Invitationals and we’ll start making some notes or charts or something. Starting next week, I think we need to add another practice every week...without Mr. Schue,” he adds.

There’s a few frowns, but no one protests, and Puck looks over to see Kurt with a pleased, proud smile on his face.

“Let’s start figuring out what days and times are best for everyone,” Finn instructs.

It doesn’t take long, given there are twelve of them, to agree on Sunday evenings, seven to nine. It’s probably the best Puck could have hoped for, actually, given all the other constraints on both his and Kurt’s time, and they agree to rotate the Sunday evening practices between Rachel’s basement, Mike’s basement, and the Hudmel deck & backyard, at least for the first few weeks. Everyone agrees to meet the following week at Rachel’s, and then the bell rings.

“What sounds good today?”

Puck shrugs. “Subway, maybe?”

“All right.” Kurt nods. “Let’s head out; maybe we can get in a little work before class starts.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Puck has to admit as they walk outside. “Hannah mentioned something about you helping her with a project? Something about drawing clothes.”

“Yes, she’s got to do something for history, I think.” Kurt shrugs. “I told her I’d bring one of my old coloring books.”

Puck just grins. “Which you kept.”

Kurt pinks a little. “I worked hard on some of those pages.”

“It’s cool, blue eyes,” Puck keeps grinning as they reach the Nav. “Just cute.”

Kurt rolls his eyes but smiles a little before changing the subject. “So I couldn’t believe Mr. Schue. I mean, I could, but.”

“No, I know.” Puck sighs. “Well, we’ll get it done.”

 

Coach Beiste has Puck do some extra work at the end of practice, as she’d mentioned after Friday’s game, so when he reaches his locker, almost everyone has cleared out, and Finn’s nearly finished, too.

“Hey man,” Finn says, cramming stuff into his duffel. “So Sam said he and Mike were talking about all us guys getting together on Saturday afternoon to hang out or whatever. I suggested disc golf, ‘cause of how Kurt’s really good at it and it’ll be funny when he whips all their asses.”

Puck chuckles. “Maybe you can convince them to bet on who wins and make a couple of bucks off of it.”

“Oh that’s a good idea,” Finn exclaims. “I’ll bet on you guys. Well, I’ll bet on Kurt, anyway.”

“So do Kurt and I need to find a course or are we just going to that one we went to on Labor Day?”

“Hmm,” Finn hums, scrunching up his face. “Well, is that one gonna be boring for you guys because you already golfed it or disced it or whatever?”

Puck shrugs. “It’d be nice to try a new one, I guess. And it’s not like we can’t all fit in the Nav.”

“Just tell me where and I’ll set it up, then,” Finn says, zipping up his duffel. “I’ve gotta go meet up with Rachel and do a...thing.”

“Kay. Have fun, dude.”

 

Rachel tucks her arm into Puck’s as they leave English on Tuesday. “So I feel like we’re embarking on a great adventure! Although a bit guilty, too.”

“Yeah, well. We tried to get Schue on board.”

Rachel cocks her head. “We?”

“Kurt and I talked about it before he talked to Finn on Sunday.”

“It’s a regular conspiracy!”

“It is.” Puck walks through the door to the choir room then, and drops his bag on the floor before crossing over to the chairs and taking a seat. The others walk in as the bell rings, and Finn walk up to the front of the choir room. Puck stands back up to help Kurt drag a table to the middle of the floor, where Kurt deposits his laptop, and then they both sit back down.

“Why don’t you guys drag some chairs up here?” Finn says, waving in the general direction of Mike and Sam. “If we’re all gonna be able to see Kurt’s laptop, you guys need to be closer.”

Mike and Sam comply with Finn’s direction, and soon everyone’s squashed in a semicircle around the laptop, most sitting in chairs, a few on the floor or standing in the back.

“Ok, we’ll start with Jane Addams Academy,” Finn announces, and Kurt queues the first Jane Addams number on his laptop. “Everybody should get out some paper and take notes on anything in particular you notice about them. Or stuff you think they could have done better, or just, you know, whatever you think you need to write down.” He pauses and looks at Britt, “No squirrels.”

Brittany pouts a little, but Santana pats her hand reassuringly and shoots a half-hearted glare at Finn just as Kurt presses play. The performances are no more enjoyable than they were the first time, but there is some scribbling on paper as they proceed through the three numbers. When the last strains of ‘Lady Marmalade’ fade, Puck breathes a sigh of relief and hopes absently that they don’t have to compete against Jane Addams this year.

“Puck, will you go up to the white board and put together a list for us while we all share what we’ve learned?” Finn winks at Puck and grins at the rest of the glee club.

“Sure.” Puck unfolds himself from the chair. “But I’m gonna need a vest, don’t you think?”

“Yeaaah, we’ll work on that.”

Kurt smirks a little at Puck, and Puck grins as he plucks a marker from the tray and uncaps it. “All right. Shoot.”

“Uh, so,” Finn runs his finger down his notebook page. “Ok. I don’t think they’re very good dancers, for starters. They just, um...” he gets a little pink and looks at Rachel. “They mostly shake their butts around a lot.”

“Butt-shakers. Got it.” Puck writes ‘poor dancing skills’ on the board and turns back around.

“Their song selections didn’t mesh well together. Well, that’s not exactly true,” Rachel continues. “The first two songs went well together, ‘Fame’ and ‘Footloose,’ but why pair that with ‘Lady Marmalade’?”

“They should have done something like ‘Hungry Eyes’ to keep with their loose theme,” Kurt agrees, nodding at Rachel’s comment.

“So... set list needs work?” Puck asks.

“Yes, exactly.”

Puck nods and writes ‘songs in set list don’t go together/don’t work’ on the board.

“I don’t think they spend a lot of time practicing, do you?” Finn asks. “I mean, it’s not that their voices are bad, but it’s like they don’t work on how they should go together or the, Puck, what’s it called?”

“Arrangement?”

“Yes? I think so.”

“Kay.” Puck turns back to the board and writes down ‘not much practice’ and ‘harmonizing’ as well as ‘arrangement.’”

“I don’t like their attitudes. I don’t think their bad attitude comes across very professional when they are on stage,” Mercedes says.

‘Negative attitude’ joins the list.

“They did do a good job with the first two choices, if there had been judges. The songs would have gotten votes for nostalgia,” Puck points out, writing ‘considered judges’ preferences’ on the board.

Finn nods, “That’s good. We should put the positive stuff up there, too. Did anybody else have anything nice to say about the performance. Stuff you thought was really good about it?”

“They did a decent job of matching their soloists’ range with the songs. I didn’t hear any vocal strain during any of the numbers,” Kurt allows, shrugging slightly.

Puck nods and adds ‘considered range’ to the list.

“How do you think all boys’ or all girls’ schools do versus regular schools, like us? Do judges like them more or less?” Sam asks from near the back.

“That’s a really good questions,” Finn says, nodding thoughtfully. “Hey Rach, can you think of anybody we could ask about that? You’d probably have a better idea if there’s, I dunno, like a show choir forum or something?”

“I could certainly look around online and see what the consensus seems to be,” Rachel nods. “Of course, there aren’t as many single-sex choirs as there are co-ed ones, so in some divisions, the issue likely doesn’t arise.”

“I think it’s limiting for the single-sex groups,” Kurt interjects. “There are certain songs that simply aren’t going to work. Or shouldn’t, anyway.” He snorts a little. “Even all of _you_ haven’t always been comfortable with a boy singing songs intended for a female singer.”

“Well, we like it just fine now,” Finn assures Kurt, casting a quick glance around the room, like he’s daring anyone to say otherwise. “Most dudes can’t sing the stuff you sing, though, so put something like that on the white board, Puck. Those girls probably can’t sing a lot of traditionally guy songs and make it sound ok.”

“Yeah, okay.” Puck pauses for a moment, considering what to write, and finally scribbles down ‘cross-sex song selection’ and leaves it at that. “Someone gonna copy this down?”

“I have it,” Tina volunteers. “Do you want me to keep it, or...?” She looks at Finn questioningly.

“Tina, you can be our record keeper for now, if that’s ok with you?” Finn suggests. “I think this was very productive. Let’s get the board wiped off so nobody’s asking any questions, and we’ll do this again on Thursday. St. Brigid’s next time.”

Puck complies and cleans off the board as soon as Tina nods, and then they all work together to put the room back to how it looked before, finishing just as the bell rings.

 

Puck is a little surprised, though he supposes he shouldn't be, when Mike walks over to Coach with him at the beginning of practice, for the same reason–leaving early in order to make it to the college fair in Cincinnati before the thing ends. It's nearly two and a half hours between Lima and the University of Cincinnati, where the thing is being held, and that's the closest anything like it comes to Lima.

He isn't sure it's worth the drive, but Ms. Pillsbury seems to think so, and Kurt does, too, since it's just for performing and visual arts majors, so Puck is all right with it. Plus, even though they won't have time to do just anything, it still means about five hours alone with Kurt, in the car, so that's something.

"Well, boys, I understand," Coach says. "Two and a half hours, you say?" They both nod. "And it starts at seven, so you need to leave Lima by 4:30." She looks at her watch. "Go run two miles for me, and then hit the showers. You can both stay extra tomorrow, all right?"

Puck sighs but nods, and he and Mike head out to run their two miles. Before getting in the shower, he texts Kurt, and when he exits the locker room, Kurt's there waiting. "She let you out really early."

"Yeah, but we have to stay extra tomorrow." Puck sighs and slumps into his seat. "Can we eat at Culver's?"

"Sure. In Troy?"

"Yeah. I want chocolate custard. With hot fudge."

Kurt grins. "I know you do."

"Also cheese curds."

"Does sound good."

"How was your test?"

"All right. I think I did well. At the very least, I should be near the top of the curve."

"Good." Puck grins tiredly and twines his fingers with Kurt's. "So I have that resume thing like you said. You sure I shouldn't dress up?"

"You look good, baby." Kurt grins. "I did bring a tie for you, if you want."

Puck wrinkles his nose. "You think I should? With jeans?"

Kurt shrugs. "You can make it work. Nice shirt." The grin reappears on Kurt's face.

"Why thank you," Puck cracks a grin of his own. "It's good to know it's appreciated."

"Always," Kurt assures him, squeezing their hands more tightly. "Why don't you sleep? One of us might as well catch up a little after last night."

Puck nods, already a little sleepy. Knowing they wouldn't get any work done today, both of them had stayed up far too late finishing their work, first at Puck's and then talking on the phone to keep themselves awake after Kurt had to go home. "Okay. Wake me up when it's time to eat."

"Of course."

It seems like too soon when Kurt shakes Puck awake, but he stretches and yawns a little before climbing out of the Nav and heading into the restaurant, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder. "Oh, Mike's coming to this, too."

"Hmm. I'm sure Rachel is, as well."

"Probably," Puck concedes as they order. A double smoky cheddar bacon and mushroom ButterBurger, cheese curds, and chocolate custard later, Puck feels a little more human, especially since Kurt squeezes on the same side of the booth with him and they eat their dinner with their legs and sides pressed tight against each other, Puck's arm settled behind Kurt's shoulders.

"You want to sleep some more?"

"Sure." Puck shrugs. "Unless you want to."

"I figured I might let you drive on the way home," Kurt admits. "If that's okay."

"S'fine." Puck smiles.

"Okay." Kurt runs his hand gently over Puck's head. "Sleep, baby."

"'Kay."

They manage to make it to Cincinnati and actually into the right building by just after 7:30, and Kurt pulls Puck into the first restroom they encounter to put the previously mentioned tie on him. "See? You look good." Kurt kisses him quickly and squeezes his hand before releasing it.

Puck just smiles. "If you say so. You know, that was the best part about those costumes Saturday, no ties."

"You seem to like _my_ ties just fine."

"Oh, I do," Puck smirks appreciatively. "I just don't like them as much on me." His hand twitches a little and he loops his thumbs around his belt loops with a little frown. "Too bad we know people coming."

"Yeah." Kurt smiles a little sadly. "Meet back here in an hour?"

"Sure," Puck nods. "Good luck, blue eyes."

Kurt's dimples pop out. "You too."

Puck only made the drive because both MSM and Mannes were listed as participating schools, and he grabs a map as he enters, studying it closely and mentally eliminating most of the schools listed.

"Noah!" Puck sighs and musters up a smile as Rachel bounds up. "I didn't know you were coming! Isn't it exciting?"

"Yeah, I guess," Puck nods. "A bit of a trek."

"I know, I'm so glad my dads agreed to drive me so I could do some schoolwork on the way down. I just know I'll be too excited to do any on the way home."

Puck just shakes his head a little, still smiling wryly. "So Juilliard's here?"

"Yes, they are. You know, you really should look at them, too, they do have a composition major."

"Not really my style, Rachel," Puck shakes his head. "Not really sure MSM is, even, but." He shrugs. "Have fun, okay?"

"You too!" Rachel waves as she walks away, and Puck continues down the aisle, smoothing a hand over his mohawk self-consciously. Everyone else looks somehow more professional, even though there's a lot of brightly-colored hair as well. He's thought about shaving off the mohawk, but for now it's staying, so they'll just have to like him with it.

The guy representing MSM is nice enough, if just a little snooty, which confirms the thoughts Puck already had about the school. He's a little discouraging, too, quoting percentages and emphasizing the difficulty of getting into their program. Not a lot about what their graduates do or the actual quality of the coursework, but Puck knows it could just be a poor representative.

The woman sitting at the Mannes table looks bored, like no one's coming over to her table, and she looks at Puck with some relief as he approaches. "Have you heard of Mannes?" she asks, clearly expecting a negative response.

"Yeah, I have," Puck nods, smiling slightly.

"Really?" Her face lights up a little. "Well, great. What's your area of interest?"

"Composition."

"Ohh, really. Interesting. We don't have many students apply as composition majors. Even fewer that stay composition majors, to be honest. You know we're a small school?"

Puck nods again. "Yeah. Seems kind of nice, actually, since it's in the middle of the city."

"You've been to New York?"

"Once. Our show choir went to Nationals last year."

"How'd you do?"

"Twelfth out of fifty." Puck shrugs. "Considering two years ago, we were barely scraping by with the minimum number to compete and hadn't won anything in years, it was pretty good."

The woman introduces herself as one of the admissions officers, and after a while, Puck begins to feel like he's undergoing a mini-interview. "So, do you have any questions for me?"

"Mannes looks more laid-back than a lot of the music schools, based on the books and websites and everything. That true?"

"Not so stuffy, you mean?" She laughs. "Yeah, we're not quite as stuffy. A little more laid-back, though of course the actual program is still rigorous."

"Right, right. And it looks like not many students use the dorms?"

"No, not really, especially our Mannes students. The main campus is quite a distance from Mannes, though of course it's easily accessible for clubs and organizations." Puck nods. "Will that be a problem, not living in the dorm?"

"No, not at all," Puck shakes his head. "Just trying to get a feel for it."

"Any special concerns about the City?"

Puck laughs. "No, I think it'll seem a little like paradise after rural western Ohio. I live about two and a half hours north of here."

"Oh, yeah, that'll be a big change!" She smiles. "Listen, here's my card, if you have any questions. Hopefully I'll see you again in March at the auditions."

"Yeah, I hope so," Puck takes the card and shakes her hand. "Thanks."

"Thank you!"

As Puck wanders back through the aisles, he spots Mike talking animatedly with someone at the Boston Conservatory table, and gives him a nod as he passes by. He can hear Rachel's voice nearby, high and excited, and then she rounds the corner, nearly knocking him over. "Oh, Noah! I'm so sorry! And here you are again." She beams and looks behind her. "My dads decided to look around for a little while as well." Puck nods in their direction as they greet him. "Has your trip been worthwhile?"

"Yeah, I think so," Puck nods. "Think I'm done, though."

"It is getting late," Rachel agrees. "And such a long ride home."

Puck shrugs. "I slept most of the way here, so I should be good."

"Oh, did you and Kurt ride together?" She says it like a question, but then keeps right on talking. "Yes, I saw him about thirty minutes ago, over at the Marymount Manhattan table." She smiles. "And I saw Mike earlier as well! Isn't this exciting?"

"It is," Puck allows.

"And I'm so pleased with how earlier today went, aren't you? Well, of course you are, you already realized the importance of having appropriate funding, for instance. We should start work on our next fundraiser soon, too."

"Yeah, probably. If you have any ideas, let me know?"

"Of course!" Rachel smiles a final time. "I've got to run. See you tomorrow!"

"See you," Puck echoes, and continues walking towards the door, nodding a final time at Rachel's dads. When Puck finally makes it to the lobby, Kurt's already there, back towards Puck, talking on the phone.

"No, Dad, I haven't left yet. Yes, we'll be careful on the drive back." Puck steps close to him and pulls him into a brief hug from behind before stepping away. Kurt flashes him a smile before turning back to his phone. "We're heading back to the parking deck now, okay? I promise I'll call if anything comes up. We'll probably stop once for a doughnut or something, it's almost nine already. Okay. Love you too, Dad. Bye."

Kurt ends the call and turns to Puck with a sigh. "Ready?"

"Yeah. I talked to the MSM and Mannes people both. You?"

Kurt nods. "I talked to Pace for a little bit and the Marymount Manhattan guy for quite a while. I also ran into Rachel."

"Yeah, I saw her twice," Puck nods. "With her dads the second time." When they step out into the cool night, Puck shivers a little. "Should've brought my jacket in." He smirks a little. "Don't you think? Shirt, tie, mohawk, letter jacket?"

Kurt bumps their shoulders together. "I think the red of the jacket would clash with the red of your shirt, but other than that, I have no objections."

Puck grins. "Yeah, that probably would be a little wince-worthy." He loosens the knot of the tie and then removes it, handing it back to Kurt. "Ah, I can breathe again."

"Silly." Kurt shakes his head.

"What, you're going to leave yours on while you sleep?"

"Well. No," Kurt admits, and when they step onto the parking deck elevator, he puts his hands up to the knot.

Puck bats his hands away and steps close. "Here, let me." His fingers work at the knot as he leans in and kisses Kurt softly, lips barely parted. Kurt has other plans, though, because his tongue darts out, pushing into Puck's mouth, and immediately deepening the kiss, his arms going around Puck's back. Puck responds with equal ferocity, his hands still trapped between them until he flicks his wrist and pulls Kurt's tie out at last.

The elevator door opening causes them to break apart with a sigh, then exchange an amused glance after exiting, the people who had been waiting for the elevator giving them strange looks. "I think they didn't like our show," Kurt remarks.

"No taste." Puck and Kurt slide their arms around each other as they walk the rest of the distance to the Nav. "You said you wanted to stop about halfway between here and there?"

"Yeah, maybe somewhere around where we cross I-70."

"Okay." Puck takes the keys from Kurt's outstretched hand and presses another kiss to his lips. "Sleep well, blue eyes."

"Okay." Kurt dimples and climbs in, sinking into his seat with a little bit of relief. "Hmm, this seat smells like you."

"The seat, or my jacket?"

Kurt picks up Puck's jacket from the console. "The seat. But since you mentioned it, I think I have a blanket now." He grins innocently, and Puck just laughs and shakes his head.

They do stop around I-70 and get doughnuts and coffee, Kurt drifting back off to sleep after fifteen minutes or so, his remaining coffee cooling in the cupholder beside him. It isn't until Puck finally pulls into Lima that Kurt rouses.

"Home?"

"Yeah. You good to drive?"

Kurt nods. "I should be fine." He reaches out and curls his fingers around Puck's. "Sorry I was such bad company."

"You're never bad company, K."

Kurt just smiles as he climbs out, and gives Puck a quick hug before releasing him reluctantly. "See you in the morning, baby."

"'Kay." Puck kisses Kurt's forehead. "Be good."

"I'm always good," Kurt mumbles before climbing in the driver's seat, and Puck heads upstairs, eager to seek out his own bed.

 

The next day is about as bad as Puck could have anticipated. He hits snooze, which means he has to jog to get to work on time, and the mid-morning delivery shows up at 7:10 instead. It's past 8 before he even starts changing, and Kurt looks just as wrecked as he does, grabbing at the coffee Puck hands him like he's dying, and then taking Puck's hand the same way.

Puck slides into history just as the bell rings, coffee clutched in his hand, and he slumps into his seat with dead eyes. Finn gives him a sympathetic look, and Puck just nods.

The rest of the day is similar, except he manages to pull out a decent performance on his math test before heading back to a killer football practice that Beiste lengthens by forty-five minutes (thirty for both he and Mike, fifteen more just for him). Worse, it's Wednesday, which is the only day of the week that Kurt _isn't_ waiting for him after practice, so he walks home, already yawning.

After a shower and dinner, Puck retreats into his room and picks up his phone, calling Kurt without even thinking about it. This is just how life is: if Kurt can't be here, or he can't be there, one of them will call the other.

"Hi."

"Hey. How was work?"

"Boring. Practice?"

"Long." Puck sighs. "This day sucked."

"It really did," Kurt laughs humorlessly. "And you don't know part of it."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah." Kurt sighs. "Your old friends Fordham and Johannson must've forgotten their suspension already."

Puck straightens in his chair. "What'd they do?" he demands, his voice rough.

Kurt sighs. "They didn't touch me, if that's what you're worried about. Just the whispering, the names."

"Fuck."

"Yes."

"When?"

"After physics."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Honestly?" Kurt sighs again, and his voice grows a little sadder. "It's actually been months since someone said it to me. Absence didn't make the heart grow fonder, in case you were wondering. It was almost like the first time; harsh and hard and just…" His voice trails off.

"I'm sorry, blue eyes," Puck says softly. "I wish…"

"Me too." Kurt's voice is small and quiet. "Me too, baby." He clears his throat then. "Did you get the text from Finn? I showed him the course we picked out."

"Yeah, it came through." Puck grins a little. "They're gonna be surprised, K."

"I know." Kurt's voice is smug. "I just need to find the perfect ensemble for the day."

"Can it have a scarf?" Puck can't help but ask, and Kurt's answering laugh is low and delighted.

"I will do my best."

"Awesome." Puck sighs. "Time to work now?"

"Time to work now," Kurt agrees. "Speaker?"

"Yep." Puck sets down his phone and puts it on speaker, before plugging it in to charge. "What're you working on first?"

"English essay."

"Need me to keep the time?"

"Please."

After a couple of hours pass, they both have most of their work complete, at least for the next morning, and Kurt is the first to yawn. "Let's talk about Chicago for a bit," he suggests.

"What about it?"

"I looked up a few things. Like when Hanukkah is. How long it takes to get there."

"Ohh." Puck unplugs his phone and takes it off speaker, sprawling across his bed. "Yeah?"

"You said your mom probably wouldn't care if you missed the last night of Hanukkah?"

"Right."

"We could leave here on the morning of the 28th and drive back early on the 31st. It's a four or five hour drive."

"That's the last day of Hanukkah?"

"As far as I can tell, anyway. That gives us three nights and almost four days."

"God." Puck closes his eyes. "That sounds like some kind of dream, K."

"I know. And if we're back for New Year's Eve, no one will miss us as much."

"No, right," Puck nods. "Okay. Okay. Did you find a hotel yet?"

"No, I thought I'd poke around on the travel websites this weekend."

"Okay." Puck smiles. "If we already have reservations before we tell our parents, that should help them let us go, right?"

"And maybe wait a week or two in case your mother's been talking to Carole."

Puck winces. "Good point." He shakes his head a little. "So what is there to do in Chicago? Besides, well." He smirks, knowing Kurt will hear it in his voice.

And Kurt does laugh. "Besides that? There's some lovely-looking outdoor ice skating. Second City, like we talked about. Shopping–maybe I'll wait and get you a Hanukkah present there."

"Yeah?" Puck grins. "All right. Maybe I'll buy you one of those scarves of yours."

"A gift for both of us." Puck can hear Kurt's smile in his voice.

"I suppose so."

"Back to work, baby."

"Yeah. All right." Puck plugs his phone back in and hits speaker again, as they return to their work.

 

Before they can get started discussing St. Brigid’s on Thursday morning, Tina stands up in the front of the room, blocking the view of Kurt’s laptop and holding a hat that she plucked off Kurt’s head, much to his chagrin.

“So! Since there’s no football game tomorrow, we’re all going to go see the remake of _Footloose_!” she announces, as if none of them have a choice, and Puck figures that’s probably the case. “Everyone put in ten bucks and I’ll get our tickets this afternoon, and we should have just enough for a few big popcorns to share!”

There’s a little grumbling but everyone reaches for their wallet, and Puck pulls a twenty out of his, flicking his eyes at Kurt before tossing it into the hat. Kurt smirks a little at him but doesn’t say anything, and no one else seems to notice. Mollified by a hundred and ten dollars appearing quickly, Tina scoops up the cash and puts in her own bag, handing Kurt his hat back. “Quinn?”

“I’m leaving in the morning to go visit a few colleges. I’ll be back on Tuesday.”

“Oh, have fun!”

Then Kurt queues up the performances from St. Brigid’s, and Puck finds himself standing at the white board again. The comments fly on this one, and they’re left with a long list that Puck reads off.

“‘Broadway has appeal for judges; maybe no mash-ups in competition; some songs too slow; bad costuming; keep up with celebrity news just in case; set didn’t flow; some songs not recent enough but not old enough either; need to warm-up; practice choreography more; lots of enthusiasm; good arrangements; no standout vocalists, lots of harmonizing; large numbers.’” Puck takes a deep breath. “Do we know if they’re new?”

Puck knows the answer, actually; April’s been dissecting Saturday via Facebook message with both he and Kurt all week, and she says they competed against St. Brigid’s in Sectionals the last two years.

“No,” Kurt shakes his head. “April found out that they’ve been in their group for Sectionals for the past two years. She didn’t remember them, apparently.” He snorts. “As far as she can find out, however, they’ve never done better than second place at Sectionals. Likely due to their poor song selections, in April’s opinion.”

The bell rings then, and Tina scrambles to write down everything while Kurt packs his laptop and they move the table and chairs back to their usual position. Puck wipes down the board before exiting the room, and they all smile brightly when they pass Mr. Schue on the way to the cafeteria.

 

Kurt walks into the choir room around 3:15 and shuts the door behind him. Puck looks up and grins. “Hey. You’re a little early.”

“Am I?” Kurt says loftily and sits down with a small smile. “Imagine that.”

Puck just shakes his head and stands up, putting his stuff away. “I can’t think of why you would be.”

“Me either,” Kurt shrugs, eyes wide and innocent. “Maybe I’m just so eager for glee club to begin, so we can all have our ‘jam session.’”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Puck laughs. “What does he even mean?”

“I’m guessing that we’ll throw out random song titles and every third or fourth one, he’ll say ‘great idea!’ and we’ll all be forced to sing that.”

“Probably.” Puck sinks into the chair next to Kurt. “We could bail. We’ve got ten minutes or so, we might even make it out without being spotted.”

“Mmm. God, that’s tempting.” Kurt lets his head drop onto Puck’s shoulder. “Probably a bad idea with Rachel the sleuth around, though.”

“Yeah.” Puck sighs. “Fuck. I forgot about that. Probably my brain trying to keep me sane.” Puck exhales loudly. “I don’t know, maybe we should just tell her.”

“My ears.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, she probably would squeal. And I dunno, maybe she could keep it a secret, but maybe not.”

“Your mother would be thrilled, one more obstacle eliminated in her quest for you to have a heart-to-heart with Rachel’s dads.” Kurt smirks.

“Okay, definitely not telling her,” Puck replies immediately, and Kurt laughs. The bell rings and they both straighten, Puck crossing to open the door so no one asks any awkward questions about why the doors were closed.

Schue is one of the first ones in the room, grinning with a stack of papers under his arm that he quickly sets down on the piano before rolling up his sleeves. He looks at everyone expectantly as they enter the room, clearly expecting more enthusiasm than he’s receiving in some quarters. “Let’s have some fun, guys! Anyone have a song they want us to sing?”

Sure enough, there are a few suggestions which are promptly ignored, including Rachel’s Broadway selection and Kurt’s Lady Gaga, before Schue seizes on Sam’s, “Back Down South.”

“That sounds great! Let’s go.” He nods at the band and Brad, who stumble through the first few measures before finding their footing. Sam sings most of the lyrics, with the rest of them joining in on the chorus.

“We need something with a little more pep, no offense, babe,” Mercedes says, nodding at Sam as the song ends. “How about something with a beat, like the Cha-Cha Slide.”

“No, we need something more like New Wave,” Tina counters.

“Foo Fighters,” Puck tosses out. “‘Next Year,’ the one that was on that show when we were in elementary school.”

“Oh, I loved that show,” Schue agrees, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

“Yeah, that’s a fun song!” Brittany agrees, jumping to her feet, and almost everyone joins her. It is a fun song, and the lyrics actually make Puck kind of happy.

 _Into the night we shine  
Lighting the way we glide by  
Catch me if I get too high  
When I come down  
I'll be coming home next year  
I'm in the sky tonight  
There I can keep by your side_

Kurt catches his eye as they come back to the main line again, and grins as he sings _I’ll be coming home next year_. Yeah, say goodbye and whatever–they’ll be _home_ next year. Maybe it’s a little weird to think of a city he’s visited only once as home, but he can’t help it–it’s what feels right. Home.

Then there’s another flurry of suggestions before everyone agrees on “Stairway to Heaven.” They laugh and joke their way through the song, and that’s probably the high point of the rehearsal, a few more less-inspired choices selected by Schue to round out the afternoon.

Puck has been looking forward to Thursday all week long: no extra-long football practice and nowhere to be in the evening except eating dinner with Kurt and then doing homework with him. In the same room, not just by talking on the phone.

When rehearsal ends, he and Kurt wait until the room is almost empty before heading outside, walking what is probably a little too close together to be entirely unremarkable, but neither of them moves away. Sometimes Puck can't determine where that line is, either, so as long as no one is scrutinizing them, he thinks they're probably okay.

"We've almost made it to the end of the week," Kurt sighs as they climb into the Nav. "It sucks about tomorrow night though."

Puck chuckles. "Yeah, it really does."

"Very sneaky, by the way."

"Oh, you liked that?" Puck grins. "Now you have to share popcorn with me. Maybe a drink."

"But what about the _germs_?" Kurt squeals, then laughs.

Puck joins in the laughter, reaching across the console to grab Kurt's hand. "We'll just have to soldier on through, won't we?"

"Terrible hardship," Kurt agrees with a nod and a grin.

They fully intend to study and be responsible before dinner, but instead they end up sprawled across Kurt's bed, laughing at links and videos on their phones, talking about nothing of any real consequence. Kurt is pressed up against Puck's side, their legs tangled together, and even though Puck is aware of how tactile or whatever he can be, it still sometimes surprises him, how much even a limited amount of contact, fully clothed, can make his body just let go and relax.

"I wish I could undress you right now," he murmurs into Kurt's ear, and Kurt's lips quirk.

"Oh?"

"Mmmhmm. Just 'cause I like peeling all your fancy clothes off of you."

He can feel Kurt sort of mold himself against Puck, and Kurt's eyes half-close. "I like it, too," Kurt whispers. "I like the way I can feel your fingers and your eyes both on me."

"You're so fucking beautiful, blue eyes," Puck keeps his lips against Kurt's ear, and Kurt wiggles a little as it clearly tickles.

"You're pretty amazing yourself." Kurt turns his body towards Puck and smiles, running his hand down Puck's arm. "Hold me?"

Puck wraps both arms around Kurt and pulls him tight against his own body. "Love you."

"Love you too." Kurt buries his face against Puck's neck. "Let's win the lottery and just spend our days like this."

"Sounds good to me." Puck kisses the top of Kurt's head, and is contemplating closing his eyes and going to sleep like that when there's a soft knock on the door frame.

"Dinner, boys," Carole says softly, and Kurt grunts a little.

"Okay," Puck looks over at her and nods. "Be right down."

"Okay." She smiles and disappears.

Puck reluctantly loosens his hold on Kurt, and Kurt rolls away slightly, face screwed up in an expression of displeasure. "Ugh. I don't wanna." His stomach growls a moment later, though, and Puck grins.

"Yeah, you do." He sits up and tugs on Kurt's hand. "C'mon, maybe it's something awesome like those potato things."

"Hmm." Kurt sits up and sighs. "Maybe so." They stand and walk down the stairs hand in hand, Kurt only letting go of Puck's hand once they've all sat down.

Dinner is good, though there aren't any of the potato things Puck was hoping for, and then they head back to Kurt's room, knowing they each need to do some work. And they do work, for about thirty minutes, before Kurt's phone starts ringing.

"Tina?" Puck hazards a guess at the song blaring out.

"Yes." Kurt beams at him, but doesn't answer. "I told them I was busy tonight, that I was behind from Tuesday," he frowns then, and doesn't answer the phone.

The music stops, but then another song starts. "And that one's… Santana?"

"Mercedes." Kurt sighs. "These girls are relentless sometimes."

When some song about hair blares out, though, Kurt gives the phone a curious look. "What? Who is that?"

"Quinn." Kurt sounds even more puzzled than he looks.

"Maybe you should answer it?"

"Maybe so." Kurt sighs and answers the phone. "Hello."

There's a long pause and Puck can hear high-pitched noises emanating from the phone, more than one voice tripping over the others.

"Wait, wait!" Kurt interrupts. "Calm down. One at a time, please." There's another long pause, and Kurt nods, then sighs. "Tina. Tina. It's all right. We'll fix it. What on earth possessed…? Nevermind." He sighs again and rolls his eyes at Puck. "Okay, yes, I understand. Mercedes' house. Yes." Another pause. "All right, all right, I'll be there, but I swear, if this is some kind of trick, I'm going to kill you. ALL of you." Another pause. "Because I was having a perfectly lovely evening at home and actually managing to catch up on all my work." Kurt stands up and squeezes Puck's hand. "Hanging up now." He ends the call and then frowns, looking at Puck. "Tina's gone and botched her hair up magnificently, it seems."

"Oh?"

"And I am, apparently, her only hope." Kurt bends over and kisses Puck lingeringly. "I'll be back in an hour, I hope. Luckily I have almost everything done that has to be turned in tomorrow."

"What's not done?"

"That three-question stats problem set. I've only done the first two."

"Hand it over, K." Puck grins at the look of surprise on Kurt's face. "Hey, you did my English, s'only fair."

"Thank you," Kurt murmurs, lips close to Puck's ear, and hands over the work as he rushes out the door. "I'll be back quickly. Be good."

"I'm always good." Puck can hear Kurt clattering down the stairs, and after a moment, the Nav starts up. Puck has the absent thought that if he were out, he could just tag along, but helping fix hair sounds pretty boring, even if it does involve watching Kurt.

He makes quick work of Kurt's final problem and puts it back into Kurt's bag, then looks at his own math homework and history assignments. Kurt comes back in, ninety minutes later, looking harried.

"I am so sorry," he sighs, collapsing onto the bed beside Puck. "Tina got some brilliant idea to _bleach_ her hair–so she could dye it a brighter shade of red or blue or something–but she tried to do all of the back at once and oh. It was just _fried_. Orange and brittle.”

"Orange?" Puck tries to imagine Tina with orange hair, but it's not working for him.

"It was awful. We had to cut most of her hair off. It's very short in the back, longer in the front. I think it looks passably like something she _might_ have planned to do to herself." Kurt rolls towards Puck. "Then they were all 'since you're already here!' which was annoying, and if it weren't for the very genuine tears on Tina's face, I would have accused Mercedes of it all being a plot."

"You could've stayed longer if you wanted to," Puck shrugs.

"But I didn't want to." Kurt slips himself under Puck's arm. "I want to be right here, because I'm tired and you're tired, and we're both stressed, and I _need_ a little time with my boyfriend."

Puck smiles. "Okay." He rests his cheek against Kurt's head. "So I should pretend to be surprised that Tina's hair is all gone tomorrow?"

"Something like that," Kurt agrees. "We should work. Dad said you can stay a little later as long as your mom doesn't mind."

"My mom's probably already in bed," Puck snorts. "So I think we're fine."

"Okay." Kurt sits up slowly. "Let's work?"

"If we must." Puck wrinkles his nose, and Kurt laughs.

"Either that, or we win the lottery."

 

Puck is sort of ridiculously relieved in a way he can’t explain when Kurt pushes open the door and walks into Starbucks the next morning even earlier than usual for a Friday. He’s also pleased that he actually notices what Kurt’s wearing, because some mornings lately, he’s been so busy or so tired or whatever that he barely does, and that’s just not really okay with Puck.

But this morning, Kurt’s wearing a bulky sweater with those fireman-coat closing things, over a striped shirt and pretty pink tie and tight pants and some shiny black boots, and Puck wants to curse the whole glee-club-meets-at-Starbucks-on-Friday thing. Because Kurt looks delicious, and Puck doesn’t really want to share.

“Good morning,” Kurt smiles slowly, stepping up to the counter.

“It is now.” Puck smirks, letting his eyes roam over Kurt’s form, and Kurt’s smile grows wider.

“A nice boy paid for my movie ticket and popcorn for tonight,” Kurt says teasingly, “so I thought I ought to dress nice for him.”

“I think he will definitely appreciate that,” Puck answers. “Very much so. Even if he can’t show his appreciation in quite the way he’d like.”

“That is an unfortunate side effect,” Kurt muses with a nod. “Unfortunate for the both of us.”

Puck exhales. “Yeah.” He shoots Kurt a sideways look as another customer walks in. “You just gonna stand there lookin’ sexy?”

“Yes.” Kurt dimples. “Problem with that?”

“You’re very distracting,” Puck says, but he shakes his head no, and then turns to the customer, aware of Kurt’s eyes on him.

“You know,” Kurt begins, after the coffee is made and out the door in its new owner’s hand, “competency is very sexy, too. You’re very adept with your hands.”

Puck can feel himself flushing as he grins. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

Kurt opens his mouth again, and Puck can’t wait to hear what comes out this time, but then another voice rings out across the store. “Puckerman! Coffee! Please!”

“Good morning, Santana,” Puck says dryly, but starts fixing her drink even as she’s laying the exact change on the counter.

“It isn’t yet, but it will be once you give me that caffeine,” she retorts. “So what insipid idea do you thing Schue has for us today?”

“I’m more interested to see what our ‘theme’ will be for next week,” Kurt says calmly, taking a sip of his drink as Puck hands it to him. “I personally think it will be yet another intangible idea that we will, in Schue’s opinion, express best through the music of the 1980s.”

Santana snorts. “I was really hoping for inanimate object for once, personally.”

“Whiteboards,” Puck interjects. “We’ll have to sing about whiteboards.”

“Oh, the possibilities!”

The others spill slowly in after that, exchanging greetings and calling out their coffee orders, though most of them rarely deviate from the same order. Finally, Puck slides Finn’s cup to him, makes his own Americano, and then heads towards the bathroom to change.

He has to laugh at himself, because apparently his mind and Kurt’s are starting to work the same way, or maybe they always did and just didn’t realize it. He figured that it was as close to a date as they were going to get this weekend, and he wouldn’t be home beforehand either, so he packed a nicer pair of dark jeans and one of his nicer (but also tighter) shirts. When he emerges from the bathroom, Brittany whistles a little, and then Artie and Sam do, too, before laughing.

“What?”

“Looking nice, dude,” Sam smirks, and Puck just rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, you’d be bitching if I smelled like coffee all through history.”

The conversation turns back to other things, and Kurt slides his eyes towards Puck, grinning out of one side of his mouth as he appears to be paying attention to the conversation Tina’s having about her drastic new haircut.

Now that everyone is used to meeting there on Friday mornings, there’s less of a rush to get out the door at a too-early time, and everyone sort of lingers this morning, slowly draining their cups and tossing their trash in slow-motion. It’s also the first morning that they haven’t been wearing their Glock t-shirts, since there’s no game that evening. It takes a little more work than usual to be the last two out of the store, but they manage, fingers brushing as they walk to the Nav.

Glee rehearsal is almost non-existent, because Schue gets held up with a student after third period. He shows up fifteen minutes before the end of fourth period, in time to give them an assignment for the following week.

“Hey, guys, I am _so_ sorry. Listen, I thought of a great assignment for next week!” He crosses to the whiteboard, naturally, and writes “The Sixties!”

“Can we work in groups again?” Tina asks.

“I’d prefer you to work in groups of no bigger than three. Duets or solos are even better, guys. You need to develop your talents as individuals to make the whole stronger.”

There’s a few groans and a lot of rolling of eyes, but Schue just beams at them before disappearing back out the door, and everyone heads out the door before the bell rings. It’s the first time something out of the ordinary has worked in Puck’s favor the entire week, because it gives he and Kurt time to eat in an actual restaurant, at Panera, before heading to their afternoon classes.

Since there’s no game, Beiste runs a full practice instead of the usual abbreviated Friday practice, which means that he, Kurt, and Finn all have to hurry through dinner at the Hudmel house before heading towards the movie theatre.

Tina’s bouncing excitedly on the sidewalk in front of the theatre, waving a stack of tickets as everyone shows up. “I already sent Mike in to get popcorn, but we should head in if anyone wants drinks! They said we can be seated in just about ten minutes.”

Puck gets a large pop and hands it to Kurt to hold with a small grin, which Kurt returns quickly before taking a sip. Everyone else gradually gets their drinks (and candy, at least in Finn’s case: a large box of Sour Patch Kids), and then they head towards the theatre, the eleven of them quickly taking over a row.

“So what is this movie about, anyway”” Finn asks, already ripping into his box of candy. “Feet?”

Brittany laughs. “It’s about dancing!”

Finn frowns. “I think that maybe someone should have told me that before I agreed to come see it.”

“ _You_ don’t have to dance,” Rachel assures him with a smile. “And it’s not all dancing.”

“Is it a horror movie?” Finn demands. “Because it _sounds_ like a horror movie. Do they, like, dance to death or something?”

“No, that’s in _Buffy_ ,” Kurt speaks up. “No horror, Finn, unless you include the dreadful condition of the car at first.”

“Ok, so is it about dancing or is it about cars?”

“DANCING,” the rest of them chorus.

“Ok, ok!” Finn grumbles. “It’s not _my_ fault that nobody bothered to give me a heads up about what’s supposed to happen in this movie.”

“It’s a remake of an ‘80s film,” Mike elaborates.

“Which one?”

“Um. _Footloose_. With Kevin Bacon.”

“The six degrees guy? That’s cool,” Finn says, and that appears to be enough of an answer for him, because he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Puck manages to get another few sips of pop before the lights dim and the previews start. The first one is unfortunately for one of those _Twilight_ movies, and they all groan. They’re rewarded with one for the new _Sherlock Holmes_ at least, and a few others that Puck doesn’t take much note of, because the popcorn is propped between he and Kurt, their hands both sitting inside the bucket. Which, Puck thinks absently, is probably a little unsanitary, but he can’t bring himself to particularly care all that much.

When the movie is over, the first one to speak is Finn. “I thought you said Kevin Bacon was supposed to be in that. I didn’t see him anywhere.”

“No, no, he was in the original. And, I must say, he was a _much_ better dancer,” Tina continues.

“So, is this why those Jane Addams girls did that song?” Finn asks.

“Who can really say?” Santana responds.

“But yes, it _is_ a movie with a strong dancing element, similar to _Fame_ ,” Rachel counters pleasantly.

“Uh, yeah, I haven’t seen _Fame_ either,” Finn says. “Can we go eat now?”

“Good idea,” Sam seconds him. “Dairy King?”

“Ooh, I love their milkshakes,” Brittany agrees, and soon everyone’s headed to the parking lot.

“Can we bail?” Puck whispers quietly as he and Kurt fall behind the others.

Kurt tilts his head to one side and then the other, clearly considering the question. “Maybe?” he responds, equally quietly. “Wait until a couple of them have left and then announce it loudly.”

Puck stops for a second and then nods. “Yeah.” And after Artie, Mike, Tina, Sam, and Mercedes have all entered their own vehicles, he does just as Kurt suggested. “Hey, I’m gonna bail. Kurt’s gonna take me home so I can catch up on sleep.”

Finn gives them both a quick look and rolls his eyes a little. “Long hours catching up with you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Puck admits. “I’m wiped.”

“I bet,” Finn snorts. “Go on. I’ll let everyone else know.”

“Thanks, dude.” Puck nods and then heads towards the Nav with Kurt. “You wanna come up for just a bit? Mom’ll probably still be up, but.”

“No, that’s good,” Kurt nods and starts the engine. “Though I admit your idea of bed is honestly appealing. God, we’re lame.”

Puck snorts his agreement. “Probably so.” He reaches over and takes Kurt’s hand, leaning on the seat towards Kurt. “What’re you doing in the morning?”

“I should study for the last two of those exams, for a little while. Lunch before we go out with the others? I can come get you around 10:30 or 11.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” Puck agrees. When they reach Puck’s apartment building, Kurt follows Puck up the stairs and then through the living room straight into Puck’s bedroom, barely saying hello to Rina. Puck collapses onto his bed and pulls Kurt into his arms. “Set your alarm on your phone,” he mumbles, his eyes already closed. “Just wanna wake up with you, blue eyes.”

“Okay.” Kurt’s reply is soft, and Puck can hear him complying before settling more comfortably into Puck’s embrace. “Sleep, baby.”

Puck rouses when he hears Kurt’s alarm, and he feels Kurt slip out of his arms. He grunts unhappily, and Kurt’s hand rests on his shoulder.

“I need to get home, Puck,” Kurt whispers. “Your mom already went to bed and the door’s closed, so I’m going to get you undressed, okay? You need to get comfortable.” Kurt waits until Puck moves his head, approximating a nod, and then Kurt is swiftly stripping Puck without Puck having to do much of anything except roll and lift his hips. Before Puck knows what’s really happening, he’s under his covers, still half-asleep. Kurt’s lips brush against his, then against his forehead. “I have to go. Good night, baby. Be good.”

“M’good,” is all Puck can manage to mumble, and he hears Kurt’s footsteps slowly disappear.

 

Puck feels more human by the time Kurt picks him up the next morning, knocking on the door and then kissing him firmly as soon as Puck appears. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Puck admits. “What should we have?”

“I thought we could pretend we were Mike and Tina and have China Buffet.”

“Mmm, that does sound good.” Puck takes a step back and drinks in the sight of Kurt. “That your golfing ensemble?”

“It is.” Kurt grins. “I have fingerless leather gloves to finish it off.”

“Green?”

“Yes.” Kurt beams. “Does this scarf meet your approval?”

Puck tugs on it to bring Kurt closer. “I think so.” He leans in, kissing Kurt gently before deepening the kiss, one hand still on the scarf, the other sliding under Kurt’s jacket.

“Grab your jacket, then,” Kurt smiles as they break apart. “I can’t keep you warm quite so well once we’re with the others.”

Puck grins. “And that’s a damn shame, too.”

“True.”

They spend longer lingering over their food than either of them plan, and Kurt tosses the keys to Puck as they hurry outside afterwards. “Can you get us back home before anyone else shows up?”

“How long do we have?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe?” Kurt guesses. “Until we were supposed to meet, that is. All bets are off as to what time anyone will actually show.”

“I’ll do my best,” Puck mock-salutes as they climb in, and he manages to get them there without making Kurt scream _and_ in the allotted time period, both of them laughing hysterically by the time they pull up in front the Hudmel house, where everyone is supposed to gather. Puck cuts the engine and climbs out, walking towards the house and tossing the keys to Kurt as he comes around from the passenger side.

Finn is waiting out on the front porch, and when Puck and Kurt approach, his mouth is agape. “You drove the Nav again,” Finn exclaims, his tone incredulous. “I thought that was a one-time thing.”

“I drove us back from Cincinnati the other night,” Puck grins.

“That is _so_ weird.” Finn shakes his head. “Don’t let the other guys see that or you two are busted for sure.”

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Kurt protests, but Puck shakes his head, still grinning.

“You kinda are, K.”

“You definitely are, bro.”

“Hmph,” Kurt rolls his eyes a little, and Puck laughs. He starts to pull Kurt towards him when Kurt almost jumps back, and a moment later, Puck sees why, as Sam’s car rolls up.

“How do you do that?” Puck can’t help asking. “It’s like you have car radar.”

“Sam’s shocks are busted.”

“You oughta see if he can get that in to the shop soon,” Finn suggests. “I mean, they probably have the money to fix it now.”

Kurt nods. “Remind me to mention it to him.”

Finn turns to Puck. “Dude, remind me to remind him. Or just remind him. Whatever works.”

Puck laughs. “Kurt, remind me...”

“Oh, stop it, you two,” Kurt grins.

“So what is this, exactly?” Mike interrupts as he and Sam approach. “Disc golf? Finn just said to bring a Frisbee.” He holds up the one in his hand as explanation.

“It’s... aiming a disc at a predetermined point.” Puck shrugs. “You’ll see.”

“So we’re all going in yours, Kurt?”

“That’s the plan.”

Artie arrives then, and they spend the next few minutes piling into the Nav and setting out along the highway. Puck plugs Kurt’s phone into the sound system and then turns the volume down as everyone starts talking again.

“So, dude,” Finn says, turning to Artie. “Tell us about your lady friend.”

“She was a ball of sass,” Sam grins. “Cute, too.”

“Yeah, man, you been holding out on us?” Puck adds.

Artie just grins for a minute. “She is pretty dope, ain’t she?”

“Where’d you find her? And how do you keep getting all these hotties?” Finn asks, laughing.

“Girls are strangely attracted to my intellect _and_ my thick glasses,” Artie shrugs, but he’s smirking. “And, yeah, it’s like, I don’t know, Paralympics kind of stuff?”

“Are you still using that ‘can I take you for a ride?’ pick up line?” Puck turns in his seat to ask.

“Yeah, she said, ‘Can I get a leg up?’ and that’s when I _knew_ , you know?”

“Is she really missing a leg? Does she have a peg leg?” Finn seems very interested.

“Finn!” Kurt says, exasperated. “Peg leg? Really?”

“What? I’m curious. A peg leg would be _awesome_. I mean, if you had to have a fake leg, why not go full pirate?”

“Sorry, Hudson, my girlfriend _is_ awesome, but she’s not a pirate. Speaking of lady friends and pick-up lines, though...”

Puck can see Mike and Sam exchange knowing glances in the back, grinning. “Yeah, speaking of those things.”

“Seems like one of us has been a little off his game.” Artie smirks and nods towards Puck, Sam and Mike mirroring his motion.

“Dude, harsh,” Finn says, narrowing his eyes at Artie and cutting a scornful glance back to Sam and Mike.

“Uhh.” Puck turns in the seat slightly, catching Kurt’s eye as he does so.

“It’s just been awhile since you’ve seen any action, Puckerman,” Artie defends himself, hands out. “You have to admit that’s unusual.”

“Why are you so concerned about another dude’s sex life?” Finn asks. “Jealous or hopeful?”

“Just looking out for a friend, man,” Sam chimes in. “I mean, you know, the four of us, we’re good. And Kurt, buddy, not much we can do to help out, right? But Puck, y’know, maybe one of us knows someone or something.”

“No offense, Sam,” Kurt breaks in, voice dry, “But I’m not sure I’d want your assistance.”

“I’m good. Really,” Puck offers weakly. “No, uh. Complaints. You know. Busy.”

“You know, not everybody has to have their dick in something 24/7,” Finn snorts.

Puck chokes at Finn’s statement, and it looks like Kurt’s about to slowly turn into a tomato or a strawberry or something.

“Rachel _still_ not putting out?” Mike ribs him, grin on his face.

“She...she...” Finn sputters a little. “She’s a _lady_ , dude. Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Oh, the tales I could tell on _you_ , Mike Chang,” Kurt breaks in, the color receding a little from his face. “You too, Sam Evans.”

“What kind of tales?” Mike asks slowly. “What do you mean?”

“ _I_ am the one that gets the emergency phone calls.” Kurt smiles sweetly at the rearview mirror. “And this Thursday’s discussion was... particularly interesting. To the point that I _fled_ as quickly as possible. No, Finn, Rachel wasn’t there.”

“Wasn’t gonna ask,” Finn mumbles, still scowling at Mike.

“Well, _I_ was,” Sam admits.

“Are you sure you want the answer to that?”

“... Yes?”

“So you want me to tell everyone else in here just what base you and ‘Cedes rounded what was it, Tuesday night?”

Puck watches Sam’s face turn red as he sinks down in his seat. “They _tell_ you these things?”

“Oh, I know exactly which of you is going to win if there’s a contest and you all whip it out.” Smugness pours from Kurt’s mouth.

"Guys, just do whatever he says, ok? Tell him whatever he wants to hear,” Finn pleads. “Please, please spare me from ever having to hear about your dicks again. Ever."

“Oh, I don’t need anything,” Kurt says airily. “I have the satisfaction gained through rare knowledge. By the way, Mike?”

“Uh. What?”

“Tina _really_ likes that one thing you do.” Kurt smirks, and Puck’s pretty sure that Kurt’s just making shit up now, but the conversation has firmly deviated the subject of Puck’s love life, or supposed lack thereof, which was sort of the goal, Puck figures.

“Oh.” Mike’s voice is quiet and he, too, appears to be trying to sink down into the seat.

“Sorry, brother dear,” Kurt sighs a little.

“Dude,” Finn hisses. “That is _so_ uncool.”

Kurt just rolls his eyes, and Puck’s pretty sure he’s suppressing the desire to say something else, but thankfully the conversation turns then to the movie the night before, and how maybe the guys need to pick out the next movie, since they watched _Dirty Dancing_ and now _Footloose_.

The drive up doesn’t take all that long, and they find the start of the course easily. “You might want to take a few practice throws,” Puck suggests. “And place your bets.”

“I’ll put $10 on Kurt,” Finn says. “Brotherly loyalty or whatever.”

Pucks hides a smirk and nods.

“Ten on Finn,” Sam offers, and Artie and Mike both put $10 on Sam. “What about you, Puck?”

Now Puck lets himself smirk. “Oh, I think I’ll put down the same bet as Finn.”

“Oh, why thank you,” Kurt smiles deviously. “I suppose I shouldn’t bet on myself, should I? Hmm.” Kurt taps his finger on his chin. “Ten on Mike.”

Puck feigns a wounded expression, then winks at Kurt.

“Wait.” Mike looks between Puck and Finn suspiciously. “Do you two know something we don’t?”

“Like what?” Puck says innocently, then looks at Finn.

“Brotherly loyalty, dudes. Also, um, best friend of brother loyalty.”

“Right.” Mike still looks skeptical, but they start to play, Kurt hanging innocently near the back.

“Nice shot,” Kurt nods at Mike, who’s gotten the closest to the basket. He steps up to the line and smiles sweetly before flinging the disc out of his hand.

“Holy shit.”

Kurt pivots towards Sam and his smile widens. “Yes?”

“You–you’ve done this before.”

“Twice,” Kurt shrugs. “That’s all.”

Finn cackles maniacally. “Whoo! This is gonna be fun!”

“And _you_ knew?” Mike accuses.

“Uh, duh.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Artie asks.

“Dudes, how many times do I have to tell you?” Finn smirks. “Brotherly loyalty.”

“What he means is, the looks on your faces? Absolutely priceless,” Puck adds.

Kurt just shrugs. “It’s not Finn’s fault that I happen to have an unusual athletic ability.”

“He’s like a gay Tiger Woods. With Frisbees,” Finn says.

“Also with fewer affairs. And much lighter skin.”

“ _Fewer_ affairs?” Puck can’t quite hold the words back.

“No one’s going to have to come after my Nav with a Frisbee,” Kurt grins.

“That’s... reassuring?”

“I thought we agreed no more dick talk. Let’s golf.”

“Yes, yes,” Kurt nods, and they continue around the course. By the tenth hole, Kurt and Mike are far in the lead, Kurt still with a commanding lead over Mike as well.

Finn starts whining about how cold he is. “Seriously, I need another layer. Like a sweater or something. I don’t know how you guys aren’t cold.”

Kurt tosses him his jacket, which he removed around the fifth hole. “Here. It’s not going to fit you at all, at least in the sleeves, but.”

Finn ties the sleeves around his neck so the jacket hangs like a cape across his shoulders. “Beggars, choosers. I’ll take what I can get.”

“We’ll pack you one of those cardigan-things next time,” Puck snorts.

Finn sticks his tongue out at Puck, but pulls the jacket down around his shoulders a little bit more.

“Now that Hudson’s comfy, can we roll on?” Artie asks with a laugh, and they move on around the course.

Kurt wins easily, and Puck and Finn each pocket twenty bucks with a grin. They head back through Findlay and decide to stop at a restaurant there for dinner, Kurt rolling his eyes a little as the others enthusiastically ask for a table with a good view of all the games on the various televisions. The LSU-Tennessee game is on, which leads to Sam making a mournful face and announcing that he has conflicted loyalties.

They order three appetizers and three extra-large pizzas, and the server looks like she’s just won the lottery after taking their orders. Considering the bill comes to over $100, Puck supposes she pretty much has. They’re easy to deal with and Kurt makes sure that there’s a good tip left for her.

Puck feels weird, though; he can’t remember the last time he went out to eat and paid for his meal and just his meal. Sometimes Kurt pays for both of them, sometimes he pays for both of them, but they haven’t gone Dutch in a long time, and it’s just... not right. There’s no way to avoid it, however; everyone’s tossing in $25 and tossing in a full $50 (or not tossing in any at all) would definitely come under scrutiny. So Puck pulls out a twenty and a five, and sighs, shifting a little, unhappy about it.

When they walk out of the building, Puck bumps his shoulder into Kurt’s, letting his hand linger on the small of Kurt’s back before taking a small step to the side.

“Wish I could unwrap that scarf,” he whispers as the others help Artie in.

“Me too.”


End file.
